


Husband x Husband

by Moonsheen



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Case Fic, Future Fic, M/M, Undercover as Married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 22:24:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5022850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonsheen/pseuds/Moonsheen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to steal back a prized treasure from a greedy collector, an older Gon and Killua need to book a room in an elite hotel. The only problem? It's a honeymoon suite and only married couples need apply...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Husband x Husband

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cynassa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cynassa/gifts).



> For Cynassa, who likes Killua/Gon and worldbuilding -- two things very near and dear to my heart. Thank you for such a fun request! 
> 
> Rest assured, this is set WELL AFTER THE CURRENT SERIES. Gon and Killua are in their early twenties. Because of course this would be Killua's life in his early twenties.

“Killua,” said Gon, springing away from his laptop. He ran across the room, vaulted over the back of the couch, and landed next to Killua in a great upset of cushion and snack food. He knocked over an empty mug and two empty bags of chips in the process. There was a lot of Gon those days, had been since he'd turned sixteen, and somehow Gon always forgot this. Killua, who'd been living with him for the seven years since this growth spurt, never did. He caught the chips bowl and the dip with one foot and deposited it back on the coffee table.

“Don't care,” hissed Killua, jamming furiously at his game controller. He didn't have to look to know Gon was standing on the couch. That was just a thing Gon did when he was really excited about something. It didn't matter if he was over six feet tall and 200 plus pounds of solid muscle and hair. Gon sacrificed many pieces of furniture to sudden bursts of inspiration.

“KILLUA,” said Gon, grabbing his shoulder. He shook him. For most people this would have caused some interruption to their daily routine. But Killua, who matched Gon for muscle mass, if not height, didn't take his eyes off the screen.

“Okay, WHAT,” snapped Killua.

“I found a room in the Dorfwal,” said Gon.

“ _You're_ a room in the Dorfwal,” said Killua, reflexively. Gon leaned into his field of vision. Killua twisted to watch the screen from under his hairy pit. “Also, no you didn't. All the rooms there have been booked out for the next year. It's an elite seven star hotel, Gon. I thought we were going to try that thing where we buy fake gallery credentials and identities and shit and-- oh _fuck you_ , W00tzilla, I know you're just a script kiddie.”

Killua began jamming the buttons harder, his pupils gaining a distinctly more narrowed look.

“...yeah,” said Gon, “But I thought about it, and that's dumb. And really expensive.”

A game over screen flashed on the TV. Killua fell back against the couch hard enough it rocked slightly. He shook his hair out of his eyes. He reached up and put his hand over Gon's face. He dug his nails in. Just a little.

“Gon, these are the semi-finals of the Mortal Calibur ADAMO tournament.”

Gon didn't seem to hear him. He just kept talking around his hand. “Like, just getting the room will be cheaper, especially since it is available--”

“That means this game is _internationally ranked_. I'm up against some of the best players in the world. I'm better, of course, but if I don't calculate my moves up until the millisecond...”

“Okay,” said Gon, “But anyway, the room has the view we need. I checked it on streetmaps.”

'CHOOSE YOUR COMBATANT!' cried the TV. Killua let go of Gon's face.

“The gallery's security people already bought out those rooms as a safety precaution,” said Killua, as the battleground selection screen popped up. Killua scrolled through a series of more nasty looking backgrounds. He settled on one made of candy. “Heeh, let's see how you handle those molasses bombs...”

“The gallery owners didn't book this one,” said Gon. “We just need--”

“Gon, this is the deciding round.”

“...will you be done soon?”

“No.”

“You want me to just book the room?”

“Do whatever!”

“Okay,” said Gon. He leaped back over the back of the couch. Killua went back to his game, licking his chops as he drove his enemy into the spiked candy cane wall.

A moment later Gon leaned back over the couch.

“Killua,” said Gon, “Can I borrow your hunter license?”

“Yeah sure,” said Killua. He didn't look, just shifted slightly on the couch to let Gon reach into his back pocket. Gon fished out his card and vanished over the couch for a third time. When he came back, he had a popsicle in his mouth and his laptop under one arm. This time he didn't vault over the couch, just sat down and held up Killua's license.

“Okay, we're booked,” said Gon. “Where should I put it?”

“Eat it,” said Killua, matter-of-factly.

Gon blinked. “Eat your hunter’s license? I could try, but that'd be kinda--”

“What? Not you, this is-- Hah. HAH. There, there you go you. Cancelled. Countered. Aaaaaaaaaaand--”

Gon pressed his popsicle to the outside of Killua's thigh. Killua was, notably, just wearing his boxers, as this was an appropriate outfit for the occasion.

Killua shrieked like a cat and jumped a foot off the couch.

'WINNER W00TZILLA,' said the screen.

“FUCK,” said Killua, picking himself off the floor. He launched himself bodily at Gon. As he was about Gon's equal in muscle mass, if not height, this caused the couch to rock violently. Gon, for his part, blocked Killua with one raised arm. “SCREW YOU, GON. YOU ARE SLEEPING IN THE BATHTUB TONIGHT. YOU ARE SLEEPING IN THE BATHTUB FOR A _WEEK_.”

“No, I'm not,” said Gon, simply. He leaned out of the way of a whirl of claws. He stuck the popsicle in Killua's mouth. “Check-in's at noon on Friday. That okay?”

“Mmph,” grumped Killua. He dropped his hands to his side, tied his hair back into a messy ponytail, and then launched himself at Gon with a renewed vigor, while Gon laughed like the lunatic he was.

Gon sacrificed many pieces of furniture to sudden bursts of inspiration.

 

The Dorfwal Hotel was one of the most highly reviewed, elite establishments in the whole of Yorknew. A historic building, constructed a century ago, it gained a particular reputation for its old architecture, S-class service, and ability to somehow survive the violent conflict that often plagued the city in recent decades. It had 23 floors, a pool and sauna, a five star restaurant, and stood across the street from the private Pygmalia Galleries, one of the most exclusive art galleries in the world.

It was also the kind of place with five concierge, and an army of valets that bore down on you the second you walked through the door.

“Freecs-Zoldyck? Certainly, just let me see your ID and confirmation numbers and I can have you set up in just a moment,” said the woman at the desk, smiling especially widely as Gon confirmed their reservations. At six foot something, being made of solid muscle, and with that particular clueless-but-friendly smile, Gon had a particular way with people. People who liked clueless guys with a lot of muscle. Killua sighed and started figuring out how many angles in the lobby would be ideal for throwing a knife at a politician. He was up to about five by the time their names popped up on the hotel computer. “Ah, yes. Please, confirm your fingerprints here-- wonderful! Your retinal scans check out as well. Here's your key. It will activate the elevator, your room's lights, and any other amenities. Greetings, and congratulations! Dial 9 for room service, sauna hours are 6 am to 11 pm, pool hours are 8 am till 10 pm. And please see our brochure for your complimentary romantic massage.”

“Woah,” said Gon, “Is that an aquarium in the ceiling? That's a puma fish, isn't it? Those are super hard to keep in tanks!”

“Yes,” said the concierge, who seemed almost wistful as she gazed at them both. “We have experts on hand to meet their very strict dietary requirements. The hotel has public feedings at 11 pm and again at 3 pm. Now, if you'd like, we can take your bags up to the suite--”

“I got this,” said Killua, holding his bag up out of the reach of the nearest grasping valet. All the suits and aggressive service was starting to remind him distinctly of home, but somehow he doubted any of them were used to carrying forty pounds of equipment. “Hey, Gon. Let's go to the room. This is our honeymoon, right?”

Killua paused, for a moment, remembering they were supposed to be in character.

“...sweetie,” he added, with a bit of a smirk.

“Well, yeah, I love you, too,” said Gon, without missing a beat. Or looking away from the fish in the ceiling.

Killua turned a bright red and stormed immediately to the elevators.

“Gosh,” said the concierge, to one of the valets, “And they're both ripped.”

“Sometimes I love this job,” said the valet.

 

The honeymoon suite lived up to its name. There was a kitchenette, a huge bed, hot tub in the bathroom, and fully stocked mini-fridge.

The walls were covered in erotic prints. The bed had a few different settings. A courtesy box on top of the mini-fridge was full of condoms, marital aids, and (confusingly) a pot-scented candle. There was also a sheet of plexiglass in place of a wall, next to the hot tub.

“Hey Killua,” said Gon, tapping on this glass. “You could totally watch me bathe right now.”

“You like wander around the apartment naked all the time, Gon,” said Killua, sparing just a glance over his shoulder. He was busy setting up the hook launcher, their telescope, and (just in case) his sniper equipment. Gon had convinced him since it was a non-lethal job they would stock only the stun ammo, which was a little less efficient but well. The client didn’t want anyone dead, and well. Customer was always right. Even sometimes (annoyingly) in the assassination business. Well. It didn’t matter that much. The big thing was to make sure the hook would anchor in the right spot when they needed to cross over into the gallery: which he could see, just barely. Well. He could do something about that. He pulled his paint gun out of the duffle, braced it, and fired a few shots of the mirrored paint onto the opposite building.

“Yeah but, since it’s a hot tub it’s _sexy_ ,” said Gon.

“Like you could pull of sexy,” said Killua, lowering his gun. He’d actually had had quite a few sexy thoughts about Gon since they’d started living together, but had done his best to ignore it. They’d known each other forever. And anyway Gon was weird about that kind of thing. He’d repeated this in his head more times than he liked to think about it.

“I can be sexy,” said Gon, sounding almost affronted. “I’ve been on dates.”

“Yeah right,” said Killua, “Look, if you’re just helping them carry their groceries it doesn’t count.”

“With dinner! And candles! And sometimes there’s dancing!”

“You like free food!”

“I mean, no, I don’t do sexy stuff, since I’m already _seeing_ seeing someone, but--”

“What.” Killua almost dropped the paint gun “Gon. What--”

Someone knocked on the door.

“Room service!”

Gon and Killua both stopped. They looked at the door. Killua drew the currents closed over his sniper kit. Gon stepped out of the empty hot tub.

“Did you order something?” he asked.

“No?”

“Okay we’re not getting it.”

Someone knocked again. “Room service!”

“CAN’T ANSWER THAT I’M NAKED WITH MY HUSBAND,” called Gon. 

“Gon--” started Killua.

And then the door started to unlock anyway.

“Aaand someone’s put a hit out on us,” hissed Killua, nails out.

“....staff’s got the key,” said Gon who had somehow in the past three second (mystifyingly) stripped down to only towel. The door opened. Two very perky maids in full maid regalia stood on the other side. One was a beautiful willowy woman with long silver hair. She had thick eyelashes and bone structure worthy of a supermodel. She held a basket full of wine and various snacks. The other was short lost in an excessive amount of lace, she held up a feather duster.

“Oh,” said the short maid, with a delightful tinkling laugh that sounded like water. “We didn’t think anyone was in right now!”

“Your complimentary honeymoon package,” said the taller maid, in a high but oddly flat voice. Gon stared at them a moment. The taller maid stared back. Then, after a moment, Gon fixed the towel around his waist and grinned.

“Wow,” he said, “You shouldn’t have. Thanks. I’ll take that!”

“...one moment,” said the taller maid. She took the wine bottle out of the basket and replaced it with one from the cart behind them.

“Oh, an upgrade!” supplied the shorter maid, now giggling uncontrollably.

“Please enjoy,” said the taller maid, sounding like she’d like to be anywhere but there at that exact moment. “....we ….wish you happiness.”

“You, too,” said Gon, taking the package. He shut the door. “Wow, that’s nice. Think the hotel really does it?”

“I think those two looked sketch as hell,” said Killua. “And I think you could have just let me kill them. Is there a reason you were standing in my shot?”

Gon looked at him like he’d grown another eye.

“Because that was Kurapika and Melody,” said Gon.

“SHIT.” It HAD been, actually. Now that he thought about it, Killua knew he’d seen that supermodel bone structure somewhere. He stared at the closed door. “What are they doing here?”

“Well, they’re probably on some kind of hunt.”

“OBVIOUSLY. They were trying to get into our room! They were going to drug us!”

“They changed the bottles?” Gon held up the basket. “And they gave us massage oil and some chocolates and edible...underwear? … huh.”

“Also more to the point why did you actually answer the door in a towel?”

“...because I said I was naked with my husband?”

“And?”

“And if I wasn’t naked then I’d be lying?”

“ARGH,” said Killua, and went back to setting up stuff at the window.

 

The object they were after was a thing known as a Bergrafa Egg, a rare golden, painted egg belonging to a large prehistoric bird known as a Marahute. Since the bird was officially extinct, eggs were no longer in supply, there were only said to be twelve of these art pieces in the world. This one, a rare thirteenth, had been snapped up by a man known as the Hoarder King. An eccentric, profoundly paranoid art collector who picked up anything as long as it was rare. It didn’t matter if it belonged to someone else. It was said he lived in five different house all armed to the teeth with elite security technology and only allowed showings for his collection once every few years on a strictly private basis. Invitations to these gallery shows were worth millions. 

“If he’s so afraid of everything, why does he do showings?” asked Gon, when Killua had explained all this. "You'd think he'd want to keep away from people.”

“Because he’s GOT to,” said Killua. “What’s the point of having a collection like THAT if you don’t get to show it off EVER?”

“I guess…” said Gon. Gon never really liked dealing with human vanity. It wasn’t really something that he understood, but he did understand they needed to get the egg. They needed to do it when it wasn’t locked behind the complicated vault that would remain closed until the proper showing. The guests would be in the reception hall. The vault was in the showing hall. The gallery was in the vault. Gon and Killua needed to get into that showing hall when the elite guard wasn’t standing right in front of it. It would only happen right before they let everyone in, when he’d have to be checking visitors for potential weapons, during which there’d be a big bragging speech that the Hoarder always gave, as everyone started lining up to get in. Since the guard would be looking back at the open vault from time to time, they’d have maybe a second to get in. And they’d have to get in through a window with just the right angle at just the right time to see when this split second when the door was open, the guard was looking away, and the path was clear. Which meant close observation. Which meant (as it turned out) the Dorfwal’s elite honeymoon suite, with the view that could provide that vantage point, provided you had mirror set up around it and a professional posted who could read body language and know exactly when the time was right to zipline in and get their asses into that gallery and...

“Gon,” said Killua, looking up from his scope for a second to shove chocolates in his face. They were, indeed, not drugged, but that it would have mattered much when Killua had an immunity to almost all poisons in the world. Birthdays were always really interesting in the Zoldyck compound. “What do you mean, when you say 'seeing someone'?” 

Gon took over the scope.

“What? Like, through the scope?” said Gon, with that blankness that could either be genuine confusion or (more likely nowadays) Gon completely messing with him.

“I mean what you said before,” said Killua.

“Oh. You mean about dating someone? Seeing someone means dating someone, Killua,” said Gon. “Can I have a chocolate?”

“No. Poisoned. Need to eat them all,” said Killua, shoving another in his mouth. “And I know what _that_ means. But I want to know what _you_ meant by that.”

Which wasn’t to say Killua was jealous. Killua had no reason to be jealous. Killua had been living with Gon for seven years. Gon meant the world to him. Killua was Gon’s first friend and the intensity of that was something Killua’d made his peace with years ago, when Alluka had sent him back to him, with a simple: “Gon’s special to you right? I can share you, if it’s him.”

So really, it was just a question. He was just curious. It’s not like it mattered to him, what Gon did when he was out. Or who Gon did. Not that Gon really did anyone, as far as Killua could recall. Gon was weird about that. At least so he’d thought. 

Anyway it was TOTALLY FINE and he was TOTALLY NOT ASKING out of ANYTHING but CURIOSITY AND--

“Well, yanno,” said Gon, starting to sound amused. “I’ve been dating someone.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Killua. He could feel his hair start to prickle. He could feel his claws digging into the material of the hotel chair. “That sounds fake. But okay. …who?” 

And Gon, screw him, started to laugh, one of those big full body laughs that shook in his shoulders and made him shake his head.

“C’mon Killua,” said Gon. “You don’t have to get all territorial about it--”

“I’m not territorial, YOU’RE territorial.”

“You’re getting all poofed out,” laughs Gon. “Your hair’s like -- WOW -- also the guard’s starting to walk away from the vault. I think we should probably do something about that.’

“SHIT,” said Killua. He made a dive for the grappling hook 

 

They made it, though just barely and not without Gon almost smashing headlong into the opposite wall. It wouldn’t have done much damage to him, he’d definitely taken worse, but the noise sure would’ve made the guard turn back around.

Someone played music while the Hoarder talked. He had a long reedy voice that made Killua almost pity all those rich idiots who paid millions for tickets. 

“It should be around here somewhere,” said Gon, looking around. The actual gallery was just all white, every wall covered in paintings or occupied by glass cases with strange objects in them. “Wow, there’s a lot of rooms…” 

Some of them did look amazing: gem encrusted masks, a cloak made of butterfly wings, a plain flask that a wall label claimed held the eye of a saint. A lot of it looked like absolute crap, too. Killua’d never really been big on art. He strolled through galleries, hands in his pockets, pausing now and again to flick electrified coins up into the various security cameras poking out along the way.

“Well, we’d better move fast,” said Killua, yawning. “That windbag’s only going to talk for so long. Also, okay, Gon, when you SAY you’re seeing someone--”

Not that Killua was really THAT interested. He was just trying to make idle casual chat. To lighten the mood. Gon’s eyes went wide and he ran ahead.

“Oh, hey, Killua. I think this is the room for new acquisitions!” 

“Gon, we’re supposed to be quiet. Also we’re not going to get anywhere just running around wherever. Also, like, where did you meet this person, it’s not someone we know right?” 

“Hey, Killua, I think I found it!”

Killua followed the sound of his voice. There, in one of the little back nooks, was stand covered in a glass case. In this glass cases, was an egg. It looked plain, at least in comparison to some of the more ostentatious stuff. The gold was only kind of a dark tan. The paint was just a bunch of tiny dark characters done in stripes. Killua had to admit, if he’d been a real guest, he’d have found the mummified hand in the case next to it way more interesting. Oh, well. A job was a job, and this one was kind of important to Gon.

He couldn’t hear the music from the reception hall anymore.

“...ugh asshole’s probably done talking,” said Killua. “We need to be really fast. Also are you messing with me? Just tell me if you’re messing with me.”

“I can’t just ...grab it, can I?” asked Gon.

“No. OBVIOUSLY there’s an alarm,” said Killua, kneeling in front of the case. There were a line of wires tucked just under the base of the stand. He picked out the thinnest and snapped it with a little crook of his nail. “Okay yeah, that was probably it.”

“I hear footsteps, Killua,” said Gon. “Can I grab it now?”

“Well, hang on! This isn’t that hard. There’s probably a charge in it too, to zap anyone who just tries to touch it. Let me do it, I can--” 

Gon punched through the glass. 

The good news was the alarm didn’t go off. The bad news was the gallery lights all sizzled and went out instead.

“What did you _do_?” hissed Killua, at the same time Gon said: “Wow, Killua. How’d you do that?”

Then Gon held the egg to his chest and they booked it. 

Killua wasn’t bad in the dark. Neither was Gon, but the sheer sameness of the gallery walls had been hard to navigate even when the lights were on. They might’ve skidded around a few more corners than they meant to, until Killua caught sight of another figure in the dark, running towards them. He slid sideways to avoid crashing into them. The figure lashed out. Killua tried to move to block them -- until he realized he had a chain around his wrist. 

“Hey, Kurapika!” said Gon, sounding almost happy about this.

“Oh, COME ON,” snarled Killua, his arm frozen above his head. “Don’t tell me you’ve been working for this bastard.”

The chain loosened and fell away. In the dark, Killua could make out a pair of glaring red lights flicking off a little like a television. Well, at least the killing intent was gone. 

“Only as the after dinner entertainment,” said Kurapika, flatly. 

“Should’ve kept the maid outfit on for that,” said Killua.

Kurapika _sighed_ and ignored that. “I’m looking for a flask. They’re calling it--”

“The saint’s eye, right?” asked Gon. “That’s in the second gallery to the left.”

Aaand sure enough, Kurapika whipped around and started marching to the next room.

“Hang on--” said Killua. “Where’s Melody? And what were you guys trying to do to _our room_ \--”

“The same thing you were,” said Kurapika, glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks for the zipline. It saved us some time. You don’t have to worry about the guards or the visitors. Melody’s put them to sleep. They should be out for another ten minutes. I’d recommend you leave here first. We’d bring more attention to ourselves if we go together.”

“Thanks, Kurapika,” said Gon. “It’s great to see you again.” 

And maybe, as he turned the corner, Kurapika almost sounded like he gave a fond little laugh. “You, too. Let’s meet under better circumstances next time. Congratulations, by the way. You two are sort of perfect for each other. ”

Like this was the time for jokes.

“Heh, thanks!” said Gon. Killua grabbed his arm and pulled him in the opposite direction. The lights were starting to come back on again, and he didn’t have time to ask what all that was supposed to mean.

 

The rest wasn’t that hard. Sure, it turned out Kurapika and Melody had totally disconnected their zipline swinging in, so they go back to their room via the direct route. Sure, it turned out there was actually a trained Enhancer hanging out in the main hall with the ability to turn his body into spikes. Sure, Kurapika and Melody also totally left Gon and Killua to trash that guy on their own. He wasn’t actually that tough though, just weird. They got him to stick himself into a wall and when the clock hit five he declared the fight was over since his contract was up.

“They friggin’ knew that was guy there,” groused Killua, shoving his hair back into its ponytail as they headed back to the Dorfwal via the long route -- that is to say, via the sidewalk, after weaving around a few neighboring buildings to hide their trail. Gon stuffed the egg into his ripped jacket. It made him look like a giant green marshmallow. “Bet they snuck out while we were fighting, too. Stone cold. Totally what I’d do, but still, stone cold.”

“Kurapika probably knew it wouldn’t be that tough for us,” said Gon, gesturing with one of his torn sleeves. The Enhancer had managed to punch a few holes in their clothes, though not their skin, thankfully. “Plus, that Enhancer was kind of fun. Haven’t had a weird fight like that for awhile. Maybe it was Kurapika’s idea of a wedding gift, you know?’

“We’re getting wedding gifts now?”

“Well, why not?” said Gon. “We ARE newlyweds.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” They could see the Dorfwal from around the corner.

“All right, sweetie,” said Killua, grinning like a cat as he decided to sling his arm around Gon’s waist. Gon’s eyebrows went up, but he let him. They walked into the lobby like that. The concierge who greeted them looked especially charmed to see them.

“Have a good evening?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah,” said Killua, “It’s been great.” 

Gon leaned over and smooched him on the cheek. Killua's eyes flew open. He dragged Gon into the elevator, bright red. The concierge watched them go. So did the valet. They looked at each other.

“Sometimes I _really_ love this job,” said the valet.

 

Kurapika and Melody were polite enough to shut the door after they went, even if they’d left Killua’s equipment scattered all over the floor of the suite. Gon sat on the bed and examined the egg.

“You think it’s okay?” he asked. “It doesn’t feel warm.”

“Why would it?” asked Killua. “Hasn’t it gone unhatched for years?”

“Marahutes can take decades to hatch,” said Gon. “That’s why they got almost hunted to extinction. And they were keeping that gallery really cold. Ugh. If they killed it…”

Gon got a bit cold-eyed for a moment. It looked a little like that feral-blank you got from dogs who were considering taking a bite out of an offered hand. Killua paused in taking his sniper rifle apart to come poke Gon in the back of the head. His eyes went warm again. It was more of a relief than Killua wanted to admit. 

“The case was heated,” Killua pointed out. “Before you punched a hole in it.”

“Eggs still need air, Killua,” said Gon. He put his ear to it. “I don’t know how much it was getting in there. I think-- I think I hear something. It needs to go somewhere safe and warm, though. We have to bring it back alive if we can.”

This was how one of Killua’s duffles ended up emptied and filled with hotel sheets instead. Once all the weapons were put away, they ordered room service. It arrived in three courses with chocolate mousse for dessert. Everything tasted exactly like it must’ve cost. Which was expensive. The maid who brought it wasn’t nearly as supermodel gorgeous as Kurapika in a dress, or as personable as Melody, but oh well.

“This is pretty good,” admitted Killua, breaking open the booze from the mini-fridge. “Guess that’s to be expected, from S-Class service. Gon, how did you manage to book this suite anyway?”

“It was available?”

"Yeah, but isn't it restricted? That's why the gallery owners couldn't book it.”

“It was,” said Gon. “To newlyweds. But the Hunter site has this section for Hunters who want to process the papers for that kind of thing.”

“What, you mean fake documentation?”

“No,” said Gon. “It’s for Hunters who want to register as married with the association. Turns out if you have both your IDs, they process it REALLY fast. Which makes sense if you’re always halfway across the world.”

Killua came back to the table. He put down his drink. Hard.

“Wait,” said Killua. “You mean you registered you and...me?”

“Yeah.”

“You registered us as married.”

“Yeah.”

“Meaning we’re actually married.”

“Well, yeah,” said Gon. “They wouldn’t let us in if we weren’t.” 

“Hunter married.”

Gon frowned. “Is there a difference?”

“And you didn’t _ask me first?!_ ”

“I tried? You _said_ ‘do whatever.’”

Killua put a hand over his face. He had done that. He really had done that. He dug a nail across the top of his bottle. It made a high, screeching noise, not unlike the noise currently occupying Killua’s brain.

“Gon,” he said, staring through his fingers. “Gon. You got us married. To book a hotel room.”

Gon’s frown deepened.

“Not just for THAT,” he said, “I figured it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. It was gonna happen eventually. We’ve been dating for FOREVER.” 

“But that--you---” Killua knocked his bottle over entirely. He didn’t move to fix it. He just stared at Gon, sitting on the other side of the bed, gnawing on the last of a chicken bone like this was just typical after-hunt talk and not something that was currently causing Killua to doubt his sanity. “You said you were seeing someone!”

“Well, yeah, and that’s you. That was the joke,” said Gon. He put the chicken bone down. He spoke very slowly and matter of factly, as though trying to explain some basic concept. Killua recognized Gon learned this particular technique from him. He didn’t feel flattered by it just then. “I’m seeing someone. Because that someone’s you. And you know that. Since you’re my boyfriend. Killua, don’t make this weird.”

“ _I’m_ making this weird?!” said Killua. “I’m-- what--since when! Since when have we been dating!”

“Since we were kids?” Gon was, at least, now starting to look a little concerned. “... Killua, I wanted you to meet my dad.”

“Your dad’s a dick!” 

“Well, yeah... but I still wanted him to meet you,” said Gon, with a shrug. The concern passed, in its place, was that dangerous little spark of wilyness in his eyes. The kind that came with a smile that was both open, friendly, and maybe a little too toothy. Gon leaned forward and put his cheek on his fist. “You’re sort of one of the most important people in the world to me? And I love you, a lot? And we live together and we do all our hunts together and I don’t really want to do that with anyone else. So, yeah. We’re kind of boyfriends. Well, were. We’re kind of husbands now I guess....”

Killua didn’t really hear the ‘husbands’ part. He was too busy trying not to explode at hearing what came before it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hear it. It wasn’t like that was something he hadn’t even realized he’d wanted to hear, he’d needed to hear, for years. It wasn’t. He’d been fine with what he had. He’d liked what he’d had. Gon was the person who could make him break a thousand rules, someone who had so much power over him it’d terrified him as a kid. He’d gone away for awhile, and he’d come back. He’d been fine after he’d come back. It was okay. It was okay, being what they were. It was okay, living together, fighting together, wrestling for the last donut, sleeping in the same bed-- and just that. It was okay, wanting and not being wanted in return -- not that Killua had ever thought of it like that. Assassins were really good at compartmentalizing anyway--

“Okay but if we’ve been boyfriends,” said Killua distantly. “How come we haven't been having sex?”

And Gon, friggin’ Gon, just shrugged. “I just figured you weren’t really into that kinda thing. Sometimes people aren’t.”

Not into it. _Not into it_. For Killua, who had suffered more than a few cold showers and awkward almost-hookups with suspiciously familiar-looking buff brunettes in the course of the past seven years, this was just too much.

“I’m into it,” said Killua, slamming his hands down on the table. He knocked a couple of the plates off the table. He didn’t care. “I’m _really_ into it.”

“Oh,” said Gon. “Then you should’ve said something.” 

“We’re in an elite honeymoon suite with a vibrating bed,” said Killua, a little wild-eyed. “And you’re telling me we could’ve been doing it like seven years ago. I’m saying something. I’m saying something _right now_.”

“Okay,” said Gon. He kept his face purposely vague, in that cheerful dim blank way he favored, but Killua knew Gon. And he knew from the way he tilted his head that that wilyness hadn’t left at all. “Do you want me to run the hot tub?” 

Killua knocked over the table when he grabbed his face and kissed him, but neither of them really cared at that point. 

 

In the end, they were a little late getting the egg to their client. This had nothing to do with the fact they’d spent the better part of two days working out who topped by way of trial and error. Except it was totally because of that, and Killua was sore and it had nothing to do with any fights in the gallery.

Still, their client didn’t seem to mind. They met in a cafe outside the city. To onlookers, a red-haired woman looked up as they walked in. For a moment, she saw their rucked up appearances and her eyes narrowed. Then she saw the particular line of bruises on Killua's neck and her face relaxed. If she had anything to say about it, she kept it to herself. To onlookers, she was a woman nursing a cup of coffee that she didn’t drink from. To anyone else there, she was just a normal (if shockingly beautiful) cafe patron. Her long coat hid her tail. Her bodyguards were probably up on the roof. The ruler of the Chimera Ants kept a low profile these days.

“I got it,” said Gon, sliding the stuffed duffle bag under the table. Kite unzipped the top, unwrapped the egg, and held a palm to its curved surface.

“Still alive,” said Kite, lips twitching slightly. “And close to hatching. Good. It will be the first one in fifty years. Thank you, Gon.” 

“Least I can do,” said Gon. “Where will you take it?”

“I have a place marked out,” said Kite, “A nature preserve I've been populating. I can’t give its location here, obviously. But when it hatches, you will be welcome to come see it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” said Gon. He meant it. Killua sighed, and made a note to tell his family he wouldn’t be accepting any contracts for whatever month that wound up being. 

“Okay,” said Killua, “But, the other thing…”

“Killua!” said Gon, frowning.

“It’s fine,” said Kite, offering a bag in turn. This one was much smaller, a brown paper one, with a distinct musky smell. “As promised, I’ve had my people gather all the discarded skins from twenty Fishspine sea serpents off the Coral Coast. Will that be enough for the next stage of your mission?”

“Yeah,” said Gon, looking a little bashful, and Killua wondered if he’d forgotten completely that they’d started out trying to procure the ingredients for a particular rare tea. It was just the kind of thing to get away from him. “It would. Thanks, Kite.” 

“It is the least I can do,” said Kite. “And... congratulations. I wish you the very best. It was a long time coming, wasn't it?”

 

As they left the cafe, Killua turned to Gon.

“‘Congratulations,’ says Kite-- Gon, just how many people have you told?”

“Not too many,” said Gon. “There was a ‘notify your contacts’ option when I put in the registration? I think it just tells whoever you might know in the association.”

“Gon,” said Killua, “We know a lot of people in the association.” 

“Oh,” said Gon. “I guess so. Sorry. That a problem?”

Killua thought about it for a second. He looked at Gon. He looked back at the cafe, he looked at the faded bite mark on the back of his hand.

“Nah,” Killua decided. When had he started grinning? A second ago? Since he’d left the cafe? Before that. It was weird, to feel so light and not completely in his own body. “I want to tell Alluka, though. When we get back home.” 

Alluka had to know. Alluka had to be the first person he’d tell about it. And Nanika, of course. She’d been backseat driving him with Gon for so long, it only seemed right, that she’d be the first of the family he’d tell. She was only family he wanted to talk to about it--

Gon coughed and rubbed his nose.

“Aaactually she, um, emailed me this morning. She wants us to take her out to dinner when we get back and tell her everything. And Nanika said I should let you get _some_ sleep.”

Killua froze.

“Alluka knows.”

“Yeah.”

“So if Alluka knows…”

And, because some deity had a sense of humor, and assassins had well-trained spies to pick up on appropriate moments, Killua’s cellphone rang. He took it out and checked the caller ID.

Restricted caller. Killua picked up.

“Illumi, go to hell,” he said.

“SO,” said the caller, “MY SWEET CHILD GOT MARRIED AND DIDN’T TELL US.”

“Oh,” said Killua, feeling faint in a way that didn’t have anything to do with Gon. “Um. Hi, mom.” 

It was a bit of a long conversation.


End file.
